Across the hall
by anandcolour
Summary: AU in which Jemma Simmons is a known-ish writer and her neighbor has an energetic passion for music.


**Kay, before you start reading, you're probably aware that I have every intention on making this baby a multichapter motherfucker. But for that to happen, I really need your feedback. Normally I don't ask for a review or a note but please, please, please tell me something about this one, kay?**

**It can even be a "go on" or just a "please don't write ever again. ever." just.. anything.**

**On to the fiction!**

* * *

The thing about following a routine is that it gives a certain sense of control for the human brain. On the counterpart, when that little control on our lives seems to be off, we could trigger a staggering sense of distress over the smallest thing – like when you are used to get the same bus on the same time every day, but every once in a while it gets delayed a few minutes. Which is why, when the usual blasting music on the apartment across the hall didn't begin that morning, Jemma Simmons felt like something was terribly wrong with her neighbor.

It was the same thing every day. Around 8AM, the apartment 2B would burst with selected playlists, depending on it's inhabitant humor Simmons figured, until it was replaced with the soft hum of indistinct voices.

As a writer, Jemma loved this little ritual. She would wake up and set the water to boil for her morning tea while she brushed her teeth and washed her face in complete silence, her breakfast would follow with chirping birds outside here and there, but the dishes would always be done with a background of mixed pop hits, classical rock and hip hop. It made her feel like she wasn't completely alone most of the time and, more importantly, the music seemed to fuse with the beating of her heart. Which improved her writing and made her publisher wet his pants with joy.

The first few days after the neighbor moved in she had to go around the corner to the closest coffee shop, just so she could work in peace and listen to her own thoughts. She did wrote a complaint letter to the landlord, who promptly ignored her as he would always do, but she just didn't have the guts to knock on the door right in front of her own. Having her feelings always on edge, she knew she would lose her temper. So she got used to it. Then she got thoroughly curious, made herself memorize all of her neighbor's playlists and really started to enjoy that new quotidian, even if she still had no idea who was living across from her flat and not knowing was consuming her.

That morning, however, she was downright concerned on why said neighbor was so uncharacteristically quiet after weeks of rip-roaring songs, so she had to bypass her reserve. _It could've happened something_, she convinced herself while marching with sure steps the three yards to 2B _It has little to nothing to do with curiosity_.

Jemma carefully hit the doorbell once and waited. Not two seconds later, there was a loud thump and a female voice started swearing.

"Hang on!" Another thud got Simmons quirking an eyebrow in amusement."Shit. Just a sec!"

She didn't know what exactly she was expecting to find but, when the door shot open and a lanky brunette holding her left foot in a pained expression showed up, she was sure that _that_ was definitely not what she anticipated.

"Hey. What up?" Her neighbor greeted, letting go of her foot and replacing the previous frown with an inquisitive smile.

Jemma didn't meant to stare, honestly, but the girl's hair fell in a cascade of hazel messy waves and her eyes were just so expressive. She noticed the worn out Princess Leia shirt and the sleeping shorts and felt her ears start to redden.

She smiled back, embarrassed from waking up the lovely brunette.

"Oh, hello. My name is Jemma Simmons, I'm your neighbor from 2A and-"

Her neighbor, seeming oblivious to her discomposure, shot both her eyebrows up and cut her midsentence.

"Simmons?" She eyed Jemma from head to toe, more dumbfounded than suspicious. "As in spy-scientists-book-novels, Simmons?"

The writer nodded, her features lightening up and tugging her lips in a brighter smile.

"That would be me, yes."

"Whoa. I didn't know you were british. I'm Skye."

Jemma took the outstretched hand in hers, shaking in a polite salute.

"It's very nice to meet you, Skye."


End file.
